Fine, be a part of my afterlife, jackass!
by Jadeile
Summary: This is not a stand-alone story! This is a compilation of additional "filler" chapters that go between the chapters of "Shit, the Radio Demon is a part of my afterlife", starting from chapter 7. Read the main story up to that point or further before bothering with this one. This is just additional fun Husk and Alastor content for this universe, because I feel like it!
1. Domestic fucking bullshit

A/N: This chapter goes between chapters 7 and 8 of "Shit, the Radio Demon is a part of my afterlife".

* * *

"Husker, are you home?" Alastor's sing-songy voice sounded from the general direction of his front door. Husk huffed at his own reflection, and put his brush back into the mirror cabinet after binning the tufts of fur from its bristles.

The bastard hadn't even bothered to call him beforehand this time. For fuck's sake, were even the barest of boundaries getting obsolete between them at this point? He may have admitted that he enjoys Alastor's company, but he would still like some privacy and peace to be had in his own fucking home.

"If I say no, will you believe me?" he asked loudly, but exited the bathroom anyway.

Alastor was standing in his living room, carrying a shopping bag and wearing a positively ecstatic smile.

"Probably not!" he answered, and laughed. "I'm glad you're home. I have the most pressing need to make something, and I believe you'll be the perfect person take care of the end product for me!"

Husk was not sure how much healthy suspicion should be applied to that statement. He eyed the shopping bag. It was a regular Hellmart bag, so it most likely had groceries, which would mean cooking, which he certainly wouldn't be saying no to; Alastor was one hell of a good cook.

Of course, Alastor might also be reusing the bag and that would mean it could contain absolutely anything from craft supplies to fucking body parts.

...He was willing to risk it. He didn't want to miss potential food just because he might end up with a macaroni necklace kind of thing made out of demon spine instead.

"Sure", he said, and Alastor beamed at him.

Damn, Alastor was entirely too cute for a fucking serial killer at times.

"Swell! Come with me!"

Husk obediently followed Alastor into his kitchen, and watched as his guest unloaded the bag on the counter.

Eggs, milk, flour, butter, sugar – a baking project, then. Strawberries, blueberries, bananas, three kinds of chocolate, whipping cream, caramel sauce, vanilla ice cream, strawberry jam, orange marmalade…

Husk's eyes were likely the size of saucers as he watched the escalating pile of yummies. Just what the hell kind of a hugeass dessert was Alastor going to make and how in the name of all things good did he expect Husk to eat all of it?

"I don't know your preferences, so I got a little bit of everything I. You should whip the cream first", Alastor said, and handed Husk a very bulky hand mixer that he knew for a fact he didn't own. He was beyond questioning these things anymore, however, so he simply did as asked. He also paid no mind to the familiar apron that appeared on him.

Alastor mixed a batter of some kind, and set in aside. He then picked up the chocolates and turned to look at Husk. "What is your opinion on the different chocolates? Any you don't like?"

Husk set the mixer down, and looked at the options. Milk, white, and dark. Just the basics, then. He shrugged. "I'm fine with all of those. Might prefer milk chocolate over the others, I suppose."

Alastor nodded, and turned around to break about a third a bar of each into separate bowls. "I see. I find it too sweet. Dark chocolate is the only palatable kind, and it needs to contain at least 60% of cocoa to be bitter enough for me."

Huh. So Alastor didn't care for sweet things? Husk had noted a distinct lack of desserts during the few meals they had eaten together, and now it made sense.

"Slice some of the strawberries and a banana. Thinly."

Husk did as asked. He glanced up from his work and in Alastor's direction when pots and pans started appearing. Alastor prepared a small pan of water – huh, that one was actually his – and set the chocolate bowls near it, so Husk assumed the chocolates would be melted. Then a thin pan was set on the stove…

Wait.

He looked at the batter bowl, and then at the pan.

"Are you making crepes?" he asked quietly, eyes glued to the pan.

"Why, yes! Do you like them?"

Husk didn't stop to think. He just acted.

He dropped the knife on the cutting board, walked over to the curious looking Alastor, and hugged the man. Alastor stiffened for a moment, and then chuckled. "This is a side of you I haven't had the pleasure of seeing before. What-"

"I fucking love crepes and I haven't had any since my death", Husk said into Alastor's shoulder.

Yes, he was being emotional over fucking crepes. In his defense, it had been well over ten damn years – pushing fifteen – since he had had any, and the last ones had been the shitty store-bought kind. Now he had a competent cook making him some from the fucking scratch, so in his opinion he was perfectly justified in being mushy about it.

Alastor hummed and scratched the nape of Husk's neck with the hand that Husk hadn't accidentally trapped with his embrace. "Looks like I made an ace decision, then."

Damn, the scratching felt way too nice and Husk actually found himself reluctant to end the embrace. But he wanted the crepes and Alastor couldn't make them if he kept hanging onto him.

Maybe that was for the best. He wasn't sure he'd be able to live with himself if he was the one to start a fucking cuddlefest with Alastor. It was bad enough that he had gotten used to Alastor's constant touchy-feely bullshit.

"Yes. Now shut up and make them", he said and pulled away, trying to not look too self-conscious about it.

Alastor laughed. "I'm pretty certain I haven't been beating my gums much anyway."

Husk couldn't stop a small grin. "I still see your mouth moving while your hands aren't."

Alastor laughed some more, but got back to work. He did turn on a music channel, though. So to speak.

Husk finished slicing the fruit, and then opened the jarred goods and found suitable spoons for serving their contents. Alastor ushered him to the table at that point, and Husk sat down expectantly.

Soon enough Alastor presented him with a rolled crepe that had strawberries, bananas and whipped cream within, and white chocolate sauce stripes on top. Husk devoured it in no time flat, purring while he did but too distracted by the delectable dessert to really notice. He did see Alastor glancing at him in glee, though, but shrugged it off as not noteworthy.

As soon as he was done, he received a neatly folded crepe that had orange marmalade in the first fold, dark chocolate in the second one, and whipped cream on top. It was simply fucking divine and he considered marrying Alastor on the spot. Thankfully his mouth was too full for him to be able to blurt any such nonsense out loud.

The next one had blueberries, caramel sauce, and vanilla ice cream. Then strawberry jam, whipped cream, and all three chocolates. Bananas, caramel sauce, dark chocolate and whipped cream. Strawberries, blueberries, milk chocolate and vanilla ice cream. Orange marmalade, bananas, whipped cream...

Husk was fucking stuffed. He pushed the plate away and laid his arms and head on the table. "I'm going to explode if I eat any more."

Alastor chuckled. "I have to admit I expected you to call a stop a few crepes ago. You have an admirable endurance, my friend. Well, you can always eat the last one later."

…

"The last one?"

Alastor looked up from his work of closing the jars and putting everything away. "Yes. There's only one left. You ate almost the entire batch."

Husk sat back up and held his plate out. "Give it."

Alastor gave him a doubtful look, and Husk rolled his eyes. "I'll be fucking twice damned if I only leave one. It'll be just depressing to not have more than that later. Besides, I'm not a quitter; you don't win big by quitting."

"I'm uncertain if that logic applies here", Alastor said with an amused grin, and served Husk the last crepe; all three chocolates, bananas, and whipped cream. "But who am I to question your life choices?"

Alastor cleaned up while Husk ate the delicious, but admittedly kind of nauseating crepe. He knew it was a bad idea. Alastor knew it was a bad idea and probably got a kick out of the thought of him suffering later. Hell, the fucking crepe probably knew it was a bad idea. But it was the principle of the thing.

He finished the crepe and regretted all of his life choices, but mostly this one.

Alastor was leaning against the cleaned counter and humming way too cheerfully. He didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave. The asshole was most definitely enjoying this.

"Would you like to cuddle?" Alastor asked, and waltzed over to nuzzle Husk's ear. Husk turned said ear back to avoid it. "You seemed receptive to the idea earlier."

"You just want to watch me suffer, jackass."

"Yes. But it will be beneficial to all parties involved! I get to watch you suffer, I get to cuddle you, and you get to share your pain. My mother told me that shared pain is half the pain, and I would like to get my share!"

Husk gave him an incredulous look. "Do you even fucking listen to yourself?"

"Selectively!" Alastor said with a laugh, and pulled Husk up, making him feel too fucking nauseous to even struggle. He was escorted to his couch and soon found himself laying on his back, with his head on Alastor's lap. Alastor was yammering on and on about whatever crossed his mind, which was a thing he did whenever he was idle, and scratching Husk underneath his chin like he was a common cat.

Husk, on his part, was trying to not groan too often from the increasing stomach pain while also attempting to convince himself that the scratching was more humiliating than it was enjoyable. He was failing at both endeavors.

Well. Stomach pain aside, he would later think back on this day with a great amount of fondness. And he knew better than to scarf down the whole batch of crepes the next time Alastor made them.


	2. Fucking around with pseudo-radios

A/N: This one, too, goes between chapters 7 and 8. And this one is a twofer! : D

* * *

Husk was pretty sure he was getting way too soft on Alastor. Or maybe he was simply getting sick and tired of the loneliness he now felt pretty quickly if he didn't at least chat with the guy every few days.

Yes, this was just a way to make it easier to kill two birds with one stone. He could always ignore what the birds were to make himself feel less like a sentimental fool.

He nodded to himself and finally entered the sketchy electronics store he had been walking by for a few days now. Nobody greeted him, nobody came to ask him if he needed help, nobody gave a crap about his presence. Not that he had expected any actual customer service from the fuckers working there; nobody working retail in Hell gave a shit. Not that they had back when he was alive, either, unless they were the owner, but that was beside the point.

He was glad about it anyway. The less he had to interact with random people, the damn better.

He wandered around on his own for a while, and eventually found the part of the shop he had been looking for: the one that had radios and shit. Now he just needed to find something portable that would work for his plans, but not be too costly.

He scratched at his cheek idly and eyed the selection.

A transistor radio would definitely work, and it was frankly amazing how much smaller they were made now. He could see himself hauling one of those around without much issue. So, maybe.

There were more modern looking portable radios, but they frankly had too many damn buttons for his liking, even if he didn't really need to know how to use them for what he needed this for. Pass.

What really caught his eye was a roughly pocket book sized square with headphones. Yes, he would much rather not have everyone listen in on the Radio Demon chatting idly with him.

He picked up the unboxed sample Walkman and turned it in his paws, trying to make some sense of it. It was very light, and the reason for that was easy to deduce: it was a cassette player, and it was currently empty. Did it have a radio option at all? He carefully checked each button and slider. Play, stop, eject, forward, rewind, volume. Nothing to tune in on different channels with. Damn, would it even work, then?

Only one way to find out.

He picked up a pair of headphones that were meant for ears like his, and plugged them in. He carefully set them on his ears, and proceeded with the experiment. "Alastor? Testing, can you hear me?"

It was quiet for a moment, and then…

"_Why, yes, I can! Why are you doubting that? Is something the matter?_"

Husk grinned. "Nah, just trying a newfangled thingamabob. You go back to whatever you were doing."

"_Now you made me curious! What are you up to?_"

"You'll see later. Now shoo, I need to buy this thing and I don't need the fucking cashier freaking out because of your voice."

He waited a while until he was satisfied Alastor was no longer there and probably not going to come through the device, either. He put the sample things back down and picked up an unopened box that contained both the Walkman and the correct kind of headphones.

He made his purchase and exited the shop with a satisfied smile. Now he had a way to call Alastor while he was at the pub or the casino if he felt lonely, and he could listen to Alastor's endless rambling without being tied to his home.

Two birds, one stone.

Later on, when he was at the pub and listening to Alastor's babble while he drank, he discovered one more boon he hadn't even considered: nobody fucking tried to talk to him while he had the headphones on.

Fuck yes to less interaction with random fuckers!

Three birds!

ooooo

Husk entered one of his regular pubs in good cheer. He had won a tidy sum at roulette last night, so today he planned to treat himself to some fancy cocktails for a chance. He'd see how well the bartenders knew their drinks, and if they didn't know something he knew, he'd fucking teach the whippersnappers because he sure as hell knew his drinks. Yes, he was feeling rather generous. And maybe a little smug, but he was allowed to feel smug if he damn well wanted to.

A few of drinks and one satisfying lecture later he decided to look around and see if the dart board was free, or at least tolerable levels of crowded. He felt like going all out on the fun department tonight.

Much to his surprise, the dart board was not where it was supposed to be anymore, but had instead been replaced by a relatively decent looking old jukebox.

Huh. Well, that could be amusing, too, he supposed. He finished his fancy drink and wandered over to the new old machine curiously. It looked even more scuffed up close, but it was evidently still working or it wouldn't be here. Upon closer investigation he discovered that it had a really long list of old songs that a guy his age knew well, but the kids these days probably had never heard of.

Hmm… A guy his age…

Alastor would know a lot of these songs as well. He was stubborn and refused to like things that were invented after the 30s, even music when he actually managed to resist a good beat – man, it had been fucking hilarious how scandalized he had been by Elvis when Husk made him listen to a record once – but this list should please him greatly.

Yeah, he should call Alastor.

Husk was just about to turn around and locate the pub's radio system when a thought entered his head.

If he could summon Alastor with a fucking Walkman, could he also do it with a jukebox?

Hah. That was easy enough to find out.

He laid a paw on the machine. "Alastor. I'm at a pub, how about you join me?"

He waited while ignoring the weird look a nearby demon threw at him for talking to a fucking jukebox. Fuck that stranger; he didn't get to judge Husk while sitting in a shitty bar himself.

A moment later Alastor appeared by his side, looking neutrally cheerful.

It worked.

It actually fucking worked! Alastor really came to him via a fucking jukebox, which was a far cry from a radio. Husk couldn't help the incredulous laugh that escaped from his lips.

Alastor gave him a puzzled look. "I'm pleased to see you, too, but I have to admit I'm quite confused by this particular welcome."

Husk snorted, and gestured at the jukebox. "I summoned you here with this sucker. Look me in the eye and tell me that's not some funny shit."

Alastor looked at the jukebox and his eyes and grin widened. He kept staring at it for a couple of more seconds, and then laughed in a manner that spoke of the same amused disbelief Husk felt.

That made the thing even fucking funnier, and Husk couldn't help but join him in the laughter. That, of course, egged Alastor on. Which made Husk laugh even harder. It was a fucking mess.

The next few minutes were spent in absolute hysterics. They just laughed their fucking asses off while leaning against the jukebox and each other. Whenever one of them would be about to calm down he would make the mistake of locking eyes with the other, and they would both break down laughing all over again. His fucking stomach ached by the time they finally managed to break the vicious cycle of shared hilarity.

"I wasn't aware a jukebox would work, I must admit", Alastor said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes with a fancily embroidered handkerchief. Husk was immediately one hundred percent certain Alastor had embroidered it himself, even though he had no proof. He didn't need Alastor to tell him that his mother had taught him; he knew without asking. He wasn't sure what to do with the information, so he elected to ignore it.

"Well, I'm glad it did. Saved me the trouble of finding a radio", Husk said, and tapped his claw against the plastic on the spot where you could browse the songs. "I actually invited you because this thing has good shit. Figured you'd appreciate a bunch of old songs."

Alastor made an interested noise, and soon the two of them were browsing the songs and arguing over which to pick and in which order to play them.

They had a good list of options going by the time they found The Song.

Alastor froze on the spot, and then grabbed Husk into a side-hug and jolted him excitedly. "This one! It has to be this! I hereby cancel all the previous ones, I want to listen to this one on loop!"

Husk momentarily had trouble seeing what the song in question was due to the fucking jolting, but once Alastor calmed down he laid his eyes on the name.

Ory's Creole Trombone.

Oh.

Now, he didn't actually know the song. But he knew Alastor. It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to figure out where the guy was from, but eventually he had hazarded a guess at Louisiana. And then he heard the fucking accent when Alastor drank a bit too much one time, and yeah, New Orleans. And then there was the French and a few other little things that told him the rest.

He understood enough to know why he'd pick this song.

"Yeah, fine, okay", he said, and dug out his wallet. "We'll do three times, but then I get to pick the next one."

Alastor nodded, and went to take a seat at the nearest table, looking at Husk with almost reverent expectation.

Geez.

Husk inserted the coins, picked the song three times in a row, and then joined Alastor.

The song was… Not exactly to his taste, but he didn't hate it.

Alastor, on the other hand, had tilted his head slightly to one side and was leaning his cheek against his palm. His fluffy ears were perked up and turned towards the jukebox. His eyes were closed and he had soft smile on his lips. He sat absolutely still.

It was eerie.

It was fucking beautiful in a strange way.

Husk couldn't tear his gaze away and he quite frankly paid zero attention to the song itself or their surroundings.

The song ended way too soon, and Alastor sighed in pure fucking contentment and Husk felt like his own breath got stuck in his throat. He wrenched his eyes away just in time as the next round of the song began. Damn, he needed some space to clear his head, apparently.

"I'll go get us something to drink", Husk said and got up. He glanced at Alastor, who now had his eyes open but looked like he was miles and decades away from the pub. He wasn't sure if Alastor even heard him, but he supposed that didn't matter.

Husk let him be and went to the bar counter. He took his time getting himself another fancy cocktail and Alastor an expensive whiskey, and then returned to their table just in time for the second round of the song to end and the third to begin.

"Here", he said, and slid the whiskey over. Alastor hummed absentmindedly, accepted the drink, and took a sip. His gaze sharpened for a moment and he looked at the glass with a pleasantly surprised smile. Husk grinned; his friend clearly approved of the selected whiskey.

"I won big last night", Husk offered as an explanation. Alastor nodded, not needing to hear more. That, and he was distracted by the song again.

Husk sipped his own drink quietly, and tried to not stare too much.

The song eventually ended, and for a moment there was an… expectant air in the pub. Then the regular chatter resumed.

"Fucking finally", Husk's ears picked up from a nearby table. "I was getting sick of the fucking trumpet shit."

…

Husk looked at Alastor, whose eyes narrowed. Yeah, he had heard it as well.

How fucking dare that guy.

Husk tapped his claws against the table and contemplated their options while keeping an eye on Alastor to make sure he didn't act first.

They could simply let it slide and ignore the idiot. It was not their problem that the fucker had a shitty taste in music. They didn't need to care.

They could start shit with the guy. Alastor would be more than happy to literally rip him apart. Husk wasn't necessarily against a bar brawl either.

Or they could…

Husk smirked evilly and caught Alastor's eye. Alastor gave him an inquiring and interested look. "You have a plan of action? I was still considering the options, but I was leaning towards a snack."

Yeah, no, he didn't need to witness cannibalism tonight.

"I was thinking entertainment", he said, made a hand motion for Alastor to follow him, stood up, and went to the jukebox with Alastor obediently on his heels. He pulled out his wallet and inserted all the coins he had into the machine, and picked the same song over and over and over again. Alastor snorted in a rather uncharacteristic manner, and Husk snickered in return.

"Give me your wallet", he said, and Alastor was clearly in sync with him as said wallet was pushed into his paw before he even finished the sentence. He smirked. "Now watch this."

Husk picked a completely random song and added it to the list. And then he spammed more of Ory's Creole Trombone after it. Alastor was wheezing quietly beside him.

They went to a different table afterwards; one where they had a good view of the entire pub. They sipped their drinks and watched the scene unfold. Alastor's grin was miles wide.

First people at large kind of groaned or rolled their eyes, but continued their conversations. Then some left in a huff while others looked resigned to their fates. Then stronger drinks were ordered. Then tables were clawed and heads were banged in frustration and more people left, while the stubborn and uncaring stayed. The asshole who had brought this upon all of them was one of the stubborn types. Good.

Then the random song came. People looked confused. Then relieved. Then they lowered their guards.

And then the song ended and...

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

Husk and Alastor laughed so fucking hard that neither could stay sitting upright, and Husk's long since empty glass dropped from the table and shattered.

The asshole, obviously, came to their table soon afterwards. Alastor, of course, killed him on the spot with zero effort. Husk, naturally, stopped him from snacking on the guy's heart and suggested they go find another place with better food.

Neither of them knew how many rounds of their song played after they were long gone, but that didn't matter.

They got what Husk had set out to accomplish: a fucking excellent night out.


	3. Clingy motherfucker

A/N: This one goes between chapters 10 and 11. Actually, this is direct continuation of chapter 10.

* * *

Husk was at the end of his rope.

Alastor was over once again, talking a mile a minute and dusting Husk's bookshelf. Dusting his fucking bookshelf. Dusting. His. Bookshelf. The asshole had ran out of decent excuses and had been reduced to fucking cleaning Husk's house, which was something he normally did approximately, ah, never.

Fucking hell.

It had been almost a week since… Well. Since shit hit the fan. And Alastor had come over every single damn day.

The first day had been more than understandable. Alastor had had to make sure Husk really wasn't dead. Neither of them had bothered to pretend the visit was about anything else, even if they carefully didn't bring it up. They had gone grocery shopping together, as Husk's fridge and cupboards had been very fucking empty, and then they had cooked and ate together – and Husk had made damn sure to have seconds, just to make up for their previous disaster of a meal. Husk's heart had been tripping in his chest the entire time, but he had manned the fuck up and just ignored it. Being genuinely happy and relieved to be able to spend any kind of time with Alastor once more actually helped, as he didn't need to be infatuated with his friend to feel this way after their long rift.

It was fine. It was understandable. They both needed the time together.

The second day Alastor showed up again, this time to make "celebratory slash apology crepes", his exact words. Husk had felt a little rotten about that, since Alastor sure as fuck didn't need to be the one to keep on apologizing, but he had accepted the gesture anyway because he wasn't about to say no to crepes. He had offered "apology cuddles" in exchange, and Alastor had been equally happy to accept those, so there was that. Husk had gone all out with purring, too, because he knew how much Alastor enjoyed it. Husk was mostly embarrassed by it, but that was a small sacrifice to make if it made up for his own fucking idiocy even a little. That, and allowing himself to indulge being just a little touchy-feely towards Alastor was probably good for him. Something about totally abstaining being worse than rare little indulgences, or some shit. As long as he kept his mouth shut and didn't actually grope the guy, right?

That had been fine, too. More apologies probably cleared the air or something.

The third day had had Alastor inviting himself over again. They had drank some whiskey while Alastor had rambled on and on and on about what had been going on in his afterlife during the last weeks. He could have done that via the radio, but okay. Husk had let it slide. He owed Alastor that much. Alastor had definitely drank a little more than usual, but Husk had pretended to not notice.

Catching up was probably good, too. Maybe that had been necessary.

The fourth day had found Husk a bit weary of the constant socializing, but he had let Alastor drag him into thrift shopping and antiquing anyway. At least that had been a less intense an activity than a one-on-one conversation for hours on the previous day had been. That didn't mean Husk hadn't crashed hard when he had finally been alone and at home.

That was about when things had gone from 'fine' to 'not as fine'.

The fifth day Husk had very deliberately fled his house the first thing in the morning and had gone for a long walk, and then to a pub. He had had just about enough of Alastor and just wanted a damn break, which hadn't seemed like a likely thing to happen if he had stayed at home. It hadn't been long after his first drink that Alastor had called his Walkman with a tone of voice that had clearly been trying very hard to not sound panicked, but hadn't quite managed it, and Husk had felt damn awful because of it. It had taken a while to reassure Alastor that he was fine and he was simply not at home, and that Alastor was well aware Husk wasn't obligated to be home 24/7. Alastor had invited himself to the pub regardless, and only the fact that Husk had felt bad for giving him a scare had stopped him from sending the guy packing.

And today, on the sixth day? The fucker was cleaning his house.

Alastor was his best friend and a bit more, but there were fucking limits.

"Al. Listen", Husk said, and took the stupidass duster from Alastor's hand and tossed it carelessly aside. Alastor gave him an inquiring look, and the fact that he didn't seem the least bit bothered about losing the duster spoke volumes about his lack of actual care for the activity. Husk pinched the bridge of his muzzle, took a gentle hold of Alastor's arm, and guided him to sit on the couch.

"Look. I get it", he said after taking a seat next to the guy. "I know you had a scare and you're… well, probably traumatized. And I'm sorry. But you can't keep coming here every fucking day. You know me; I need space. I missed you too, but this is too fucking much at once."

There. Honesty. Communicating. Being responsible. He could fucking do that sometimes.

Alastor stared at him with a fixed smile, and then lowered his gaze with a deep, staticky sigh. The fact that he gave in that easily was pretty worrying, really.

"...I know. I know. Savvies", Alastor said, and glanced at Husk before looking back at his fingers that were twisting and fidgeting. "Hah, this is where our natures truly clash, isn't it? You need space. But I've been deprived of your company for almost two stressful months after years of at least weekly contact, and then you almost got erased. What _I_ need is to soak up your presence in order to regain my balance. That's… a conundrum. Our needs being the exact opposites of each other."

...Damn. That was… That was a lot to unpack. Geez. Husk had vaguely realized that Alastor was not only extroverted as hell, but also used him as his main outlet for that, but he hadn't truly grasped just how deep that ran. After all, Alastor had been fine without him for about fifty years. The fact that his broadcasts had grown sparser over the span of their friendship had been a clue on the deep seated loneliness Alastor had struggled with, but Husk had chalked that off as Alastor getting extra entertainment from his time with Husk and thus needing the bloody kind less. He really should have been more observant.

Fuck him for thinking for even a second that Alastor wouldn't miss him if he was gone. His depressed and alcohol-soaked brain was really motherfucking dumb at times.

He scratched the back of his neck and stared at nothing in particular in silence while digesting Alastor's words and contemplating his options.

...Deprived of his company...

Oh, fuck it.

"How much company-"

"How much space-"

Both of them cut their words short at the same time, just how they had started at the same time, and looked at each other. They stared at one another in silence, until Husk snorted and grinned. Alastor chuckled and shook his head.

"Fucking wow", Husk said, and opened his arms in, apparently, a much needed invitation. "Just come here, you clingy asshole."

Alastor grinned widely and practically dived into a tight hug, making Husk do some impressive flapping with his wings to keep from falling off the fucking couch because of the impact. In the meanwhile, Alastor was happily rubbing his face against Husk's neck and shoulder, his ridiculously cute ears tickling Husk's nose and his stupidass fucking headforks poking into his jaw.

Husk could feel his face burning under his fur, and for once he was glad for his feline qualities that made sure nobody would be able to see it. And the fact that Alastor wasn't looking anyway. He absently stroked Alastor's back while holding him close. This was not their usual cuddle-position – and he was going to ignore the fact that they had a usual fucking cuddle-position, thank you very much – but he wasn't complaining. Actually, he'd prefer to not acknowledge any of it at all, in order to preserve his sanity and the willpower to not do anything stupid.

He cleared his throat. "So. How about every other day? For now. Not fucking forever; I can't handle you every other day for-fucking-ever. But for now, you could visit every other day to do your presence soaking, while I get to have guaranteed peace and quiet the other days. Would that work?"

Alastor hummed, which produced a small vibrating sensation against his fur that Husk very carefully ignored and didn't fucking think about. "Perhaps. But let's add once a week therapy cuddles to the package."

Therapy cuddles. Fucking really? Did Alastor think Husk was a moron? He just wanted to cuddle because he's a clingy little shit, and used this bullshit as a convenient fucking excuse for it.

"You're pushing it, bitch."

Alastor's grin widened; Husk could feel it against his shoulder. And wasn't that yet another thing added into his 'not thinking about' pile. "That's not a refusal."

Damn it.

"It's not, but fuck you", Husk replied while trying to hold back a smile. He was pretty sure it could be heard from his voice regardless. He wasn't sure why he even tried.

"No, thank you. So yes to cuddles?" Alastor ran his fingers over Husk's wings and Husk had a very difficult time breathing normally. Fuck damn it. He could not fucking handle this.

"Fine, but only for a month", he said, and moved his wings. Alastor, thankfully, took the hint and relocated his hands to scratch the back of Husk's neck instead. That was much safer. That was familiar and business as usual. He could deal with that. And it felt nice.

"No. I deserve two months and you know it."

...Fucking hell. Husk had to give it to Alastor: that was grade A guilt tripping.

"Okay, fucking fine. But you are not allowed to be a whiny little shitstain afterwards when it's time to break the fucking habit, understood?" Husk grumbled, trying to push away the feelings of guilt.

Alastor gave a menacing chuckle. "No promises."

Husk was pretty sure he had just sold his soul to the fucking Devil, and the worst part was that he wasn't too sorry about it.

"Jackass", he said, and continued stroking his clingy friend's back without a further complaint.

Alastor pressed closer with a contented sigh, and fuck damn it, Husk was both dreading and looking forward to doing this for the next two months.


	4. That sure went fucking well! Part 1

A/N: This is a two-parter! Also, here's an ominous warning for this chapter. I'm not spoiling you on what is going to happen, but you should be afraid!

Oh, also! This one goes between chapters 11 and 12 of Afterlife.

* * *

"Husker, my closest, most amazing and talented friend!"

Husk set his cards down with a heavy sigh and looked in the direction of the front door, frowning in suspicion. Alastor was humming to himself and merrily hanging his coat on a coat hook like this was just a regular ass visit, which it was clearly not. Regular visits weren't prefaced with Alastor's shitty attempts at buttering him up.

No, this was a sketchy visit where Alastor would no doubt attempt to convince Husk into joining one of his bullshit projects. And by "bullshit projects" Husk meant the activities Alastor came up with in order to entertain himself or to gain something or both. Such as breaking into Vox's station to pull some kind of a prank that Husk had very purposefully refused to hear the details of, for plausible deniability, even though he had participated as a distraction. Or that time Alastor had decided to capture a bunch of monsters from the wilder parts of Hell – Husk had been bribed into helping – and then unleashed them all into the central part of the city, just so he could follow the story in the news and laugh himself sick. Or that time the two of them had made up a company that had been so obviously scammy sounding that it had gone right back around to "this is so fishy they have to be serious" and had pretended to be recruiting. The punchline had been that Husk had asked the most ridiculous how-is-this-even-relevant-to-the-job questions from the foolish applicants, with his best monotonous "I don't give a shit" voice and poker face, and Alastor had broadcasted the entire thing for all of Hell to hear. While laughing himself sick. ...That one had actually been fun. But most of the time Alastor's projects were complete motherfucking bullshit that were better avoided, if possible.

The fact that Alastor still thought laying on the friendliness with a heavy hand would somehow put Husk at ease was laughable. It had quite the opposite effect. Although maybe that was the point and Alastor just liked the stupid game of pretend. Perhaps it was even a purposeful way to get Husk prepared for what was to come. One never fucking knew with this jackass.

"What the hell do you want?" he asked, not bothering to pretend he didn't know what was up. He collected his cards into a neat deck and slipped the deck back into its compartment in his stage magician set.

Alastor appeared next to him and pulled him into a side-hug, which Husk returned by leaning his head against Alastor's shoulder.

"Not even a hello to your best friend? How cold of you!"

Husk grumbled a hello, and Alastor laughed.

Geez.

"So? What? My patience for bullshit is limited, so you may want to cut the fucking chase", Husk said with a healthy dose of grump. It was actually a lie, he could be plenty patient, but he did prefer to just get on with it.

Alastor nuzzled the edge of his ear in a very distracting manner and fucking hell, he would just give in again, wouldn't he? He already knew he would. Fucking lovely.

"If you insist", Alastor said cheerfully. "There is an item that I've been wanting for a while now, but unfortunately it fell into the wrong hands recently. She is quite the formidable enemy that I would prefer to not have to face head-on, so a sneak mission is in order. I will need to do it personally, as the item is… not easy for a weak-willed person to handle."

Husk could already see where this was going, and he pulled away from the prolonged embrace to glare at Alastor. "No fucking way! Have you already forgotten the damned disaster with Vox?"

Alastor laughed, and waved a dismissive hand. "What do you mean? It was a success!"

"For you, maybe! I almost died when the guards caught up to what was going on!"

"But you didn't! I rescued you, didn't I?" Alastor said, closed the distance between them again, and slung his arm around Husk's shoulders.

The jackass didn't know why it was, but he had figured out that Husk was easier to manipulate into agreeing with his bullshit if Alastor was touching him, so the clinginess wasn't a surprising turn in the least. And despite Husk knowing exactly what was going on, it wasn't any less effective.

He was too damn weak for this motherfucker.

"Almost is quite enough for me", Husk muttered, and was squished closer.

"But it wouldn't do for my partner in crime to be anyone other than you!" Alastor said, and oh fuck, why did he have to put it that way? Husk's poor heart was aching. "Oh, I know! You act as the distraction, and we'll celebrate the victory at a bar tonight. My treat."

…Fuck damn it.

ooooo

Husk approached the imposing gates of the bigass mansion with only half faked nervousness, and then stood there, occasionally lifting his hand to the door-phone but then dropping it in a show of hesitation. He pretended to not be aware of the security camera that was forwarding his every move to his target, even though in reality the camera was a vital point in his distraction plan.

He stalled like this for as long as possible without it being overdone – there was always a chance she would turn him away immediately after he told her his fake business here, so the longer he could manage to keep her busy watching him without having to directly interact with her, the better. It was safer, and he needed to buy Alastor as much time as he could.

Eventually, though, he needed to fake getting a grip, and he pressed the door-phone button.

"_Yes, who is this, what do you want?_" a female voice answered, sounding thoroughly unimpressed already. However, she had answered immediately, which meant he had had her attention for a while now, which in turn meant Alastor was off the spotlight. Good.

"Umm, hello", he said, very deliberately playing hesitant. "I'm Kevin, and uh, a friend told me there was maybe an open spot for work here? I got a recommendation letter, hold on."

He made a show of digging through a messenger bag full of random noisy things, and produced a piece of paper after a sufficiently long while. He held it out towards the fucking door-phone instead of the camera he still pretended to be unaware of, and then made a show of slapping his own forehead for his perceived silliness.

"Oh, oops, right. Um, can I come in or something to show you?"

He didn't actually want to go in. Too risky. No, she needed to come out and get stuck here with him while Alastor got an almost free reign of her mansion in her absence.

By all logic she should either refuse him, tell him about the camera, or come out herself. Surely she wouldn't let a random stranger like him in just like that, no matter how dumb he seemed.

"_That won't be necessary. I don't really need any more hired help. But admittedly I'm now curious about this recommendation of yours. I'll come down._"

Huh. That was actually easier than he had thought. He had figured he'd have to beg a little to get her to pity him enough to give him any time of her day. That, or she could have informed him about the camera and he could have bought even more time with that bullshit.

...This was too easy. The fur on the back of his neck stood up as a cold shiver of dread ran up his spine.

Shit. Maybe he should let Alastor know that things were going south. Alastor was tuned in to the Walkman that was strapped to a belt Husk wore for the occasion – that way it was in constant physical contact with Husk – so all he had to do was say the word and Alastor would instantly hear him.

But… He had no real, tangible reason to give to Alastor if he was asked why he thought this wasn't working, when by all means things seemed to be going excellently. Only a gut-feeling.

Besides, Alastor could very well be done any moment now. Maybe all he needed was a few more seconds. Surely things wouldn't have the time to escalate before that, and Husk could hold up on his own very well when he had to. Sure, Alastor himself didn't want to fight this lady unless he had to, so Husk had no chance of actually winning any fights here, but a powerful demon like her would probably toy with him first. All he had to do was hold on and buy Alastor the time to show up and rescue him, which he could do almost instantly with the Walkman. That wasn't too tall an order.

The gate opened and a tall tigress in vaguely eastern looking robes stepped out. Her fingers were covered in rings, which was what brought Husk's attention to the fact that her hands were backwards.

Shit. A fucking rakshasa. No wonder Alastor wasn't keen on fighting her.

On that note, the fucker should have warned him! He only mentioned that she was "a fellow feline", not that she was a fucking sorceress demon!

Husk certainly didn't need to fake his nervousness now. If anything, he needed to fake being any amount of okay with this.

The tigress – fuck yes he was going to think of her as a tiger rather than the more terrifying option – slowly dragged her gaze up and down Husk's figure, an intrigued smile on her painted lips.

Oh.

Okay, he could actually work with that. He would prefer not to, but it gave him a less alarming explanation for her readiness to come down here so quickly, and he would much rather flirt with her than fight her, thank you very much.

On that note, he would fucking murder Alastor after this.

"Hmm, you're shorter than I thought, but it's not every day I meet another cat. Our kind is really rare around here", she said with a purr, and leaned down into his personal space, fluttering her eyelashes.

Was that a fucking thing with powerful demons? Not giving a single damn about other peoples' personal bubbles?

He put on a grin that he hoped was more suave than nervous. "Wow, if I had known you'd be such a fine feline, I would have worn my better bow tie. I own a striped one. We could have matched."

Not one of his best pick-up lines, but he was too anxious to wax poetics. It would have to do.

She laughed, and ran a manicured finger over one of his ears – he fought the urge to turn it back to avoid the touch – and then down his forehead to rest between his eyebrows in a teasing manner. She massaged the spot with the tip of her finger, keeping her claw carefully pointed downwards.

"How sweet. It's really too bad that such a handsome man works for the enemy", she said with a widening smile, and the claw dug slightly in. Right between his eyes.

Wait. Hold the hell on!

He froze in pure panic, the cold dread from earlier returning tenfold.

Shit. Fuck! He needed to-

"There really aren't many felines around these parts", she continued, and her smile turned cruel. "I'd tell you to say hi to Alastor, but I'm afraid you won't be able to."

A magical lightning bolt shot from her fingertip and Husk only had a split-second to feel immeasurable pain as his brain literally fried to a crisp. Then his world went black and he dropped dead on the ground.


	5. That sure went fucking well! Part 2

A/N: Warning: Heavy stuff in this chapter. Make sure you're mentally prepared before you venture forth.

* * *

Darkness.

Pain.

Voices screaming and the sounds of explosions and gunfire. The crackling from burning woods and houses and people. Boots slapping in the mud as they ran, ran, ran.

More pain.

The metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Vomit. Alcohol. The very particular grease that came from burning human bodies and was unavoidable when you had to keep on breathing.

Whiteness.

Feeling like his brain was stabbed with tiny little needless over and over and over-

The kick on his shoulder as his gun fired. The ache on his back from carrying a backpack, a bundle of woods, an injured comrade. The sweat dripping down his forehead. The heat on his face. The dirt on his everywhere.

More pain.

Dead bodies everywhere. The exhausted and hopeless faces around him. The empty water canteen. The missing limbs and bloody bandages. Endless woods.

Red everywhere. Nothing but bright red.

The smell of decaying bodies and bodily fluids. Gunpowder. Alcohol. Smoke. Blood, blood, blood.

Pain.

Darkness.

ooooo

Husk woke up in his own bed and stared listlessly at the ceiling. It felt surreal, waking up. He had already given up on the thought of that happening. He had accepted his new reality of being trapped in his head with nothing but his worst memories and pain for company. He hadn't had any other choice, given that in that state there was nothing you could do but accept it. You couldn't close your eyes or cover your ears. You couldn't hide or drink yourself into oblivion.

You could only hope you would cease to exist already.

But here he was, alive again. Well, as alive as you could call it when you're in Hell.

More alive than actively being a corpse was anyway.

Dying in Hell was a bad fucking idea. It meant a week of agony as a punishment for trying to escape your already harsh punishment for your mistakes in life. Even when you didn't choose to attempt the escape yourself. Which, mind you, Husk had foolishly tried before during his first year in Hell – twice even, because he was too dumb to learn from one attempt. But not this time.

No, this time it was because of…

"Husker?"

Alastor's grinning face invaded his vision. Husk was too damn disoriented to read him right now, but the grin was small and it it wavered around the edges. As a side note, something was off with Alastor's hair... Oh, the right side was cut shorter than the left, the black tips nearly gone. There was a faint, almost completely healed cut on his cheek to go with the look. Huh... Husk wandering eyes finally locked with Alastor's, and he was then promptly pulled into a tight embrace.

He felt mostly numb about it, even when Alastor buried his face in Husk's fur and nuzzled the base of his ear with more force than usual.

Numb, and vaguely angry. Because he remembered.

"Al", Husk slurred, and lifted a paw to weakly push at him. Alastor just hummed and squeezed him harder.

Increasingly angry. He remembered their previous conversation, even if felt like it had happened a lifetime ago. He remembered the mansion. The finger on his forehead.

"Alastor", he said, and pushed more insistently.

"Yes?" Alastor asked, but still didn't let go. Still kept his arms around Husk. Still insisted on getting what he wanted, regardless of what Husk wanted.

Husk growled, and dug his claws into whatever part of Alastor he was pushing at. That earned him a yelp, and finally Alastor let go of him and staggered a couple of steps away from the bed with an extremely confused look on his face.

How dare he. How dare he look confused.

Husk sat up properly, ignoring the ache in his long disused muscles and the blood rushing in his ears from the sudden movement, and glared. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

"What-"

"A fucking rakshasa! You sent me to face a fucking rakshasa AND didn't even think to warn me?"

Alastor blinked a few times and extended an arm in Husk's direction, before he visibly figured out what was going on and halted. He promptly collected himself, folded his arms behind his back, and put on a neutral grin in order to give an appearance of being in control of the situation. Motherfucker. "My apologies, but I had to, my dear. You would have never agreed to it if I had told you."

Fucking what.

Did he just-?

Husk hissed at Alastor, whose eyes widened. He hadn't been on the receiving end of a hiss from Husk before, and was clearly shocked to find himself in that situation now.

"I didn't mean to agree in the first fucking place!" Husk snarled, his tail lashing from side to side. "You coerced me into your bullshit! With your touchy-feely shit and damned bribery you fucking manipulated me into agreeing to your dangerous fucking game against my better judgement! And guess what? I fucking died! Have you ever died in Hell, Alastor?"

Alastor opened his mouth and lifted a finger, but then blinked in silence as he clearly found himself lacking the correct answer.

That was fucking it.

"Get the fuck out of here", Husk growled, and crossed his arms.

"Husk-"

"Fucking leave!" he yelled, and flared his wings open. He bared his fangs at Alastor and his ears turned back. "Leave me the hell alone! I cannot stand your grinny fucking face right now! Go!"

To Alastor's credit, he did leave at once.

Husk buried his face in his paws and wrapped himself into the safety of his wings.

Fucking hell, he hated everything.

ooooo

"_Good evening, folks! We have just received word that the Radio Demon is currently slaughtering people in the south-eastern side of the Pentagram. We still do not know what set him off, but today marks a full week of twice a day massacres by him, which is unprecedented. We advise you to stay indoors if you're in the area, unless you fancy a week of painful recovery! On the other news-_"

Husk turned the television off and frustratedly threw a cushion at the screaming radio he had tried to silence with a blanket without much success.

As soon as he had almost gotten his shit together after Alastor's departure, the broadcast had begun. Alastor had prefaced it with a simple "This is Alastor, and now on to the show", which was really fucking off, as usually he gave at least a few lines of introductions to himself and the situation first.

He was clearly angry. Well, considering what the news had just revealed, he had been unhinged for the whole week Husk had been out.

Fucking fantastic.

It was bound to get even better now that Husk had no fucking intention of seeing the bastard for some time. He would hit him in his grinny fucking face if he had to look at him, and he didn't want to do that, despite currently hating his guts.

Yeah, he was fucking livid. Alastor had gotten him fucking killed! Now, it was one thing for Husk to volunteer to fight beside Alastor when Vox or some other bastard picked a fight with him. Husk was willing to risk death protecting Alastor.

But it was a completely different for Alastor to force him into a deadly situation half blind, just because he fucking felt like scheming! It was an utterly unnecessary risk, and showed how little Husk's wellbeing really mattered.

Yes, he was being unfair but who fucking cared!

He growled, got up from the couch, and went to get himself a damned drink.

ooooo

Husk was at his fucking limit.

An entire week.

Alastor had spent an entire fucking week after they last saw each other slaughtering people left and right and forcing the rest of the population to listen to the carnage.

Husk included.

He had thought it would be just that one time. That Alastor was simply mad at his rejection. But no. No, of course not. It had happened again the next day, and Husk's hung over and recently re-traumatized mind had sent him right back to the war because of the screams. Fun fucking times.

And then it happened again after a few hours. And then twice more the next day. Husk had tried to escape it the next day by leaving the house, but he had found himself too overwhelmed by the people and the sights of Hell and had had to come back home or risk a fucking panic attack or some shit in public.

He had spent the next three days absolutely shitfaced or passed out in his own home, but every time the screaming started he'd find himself trapped in his memories, no matter how drunk he was.

And now he was out of liquor but unable to go out to get more because he hadn't been allowed to move forward from square one.

He screamed in frustration, stomped over to the bundle of blankets and pillows that were hiding his radio and tore his way to the center to reach the screaming and moaning device. He slammed a paw on it hard enough to hurt himself.

"Alastor! You motherfucking asshole! I'm sick of this constant fucking screaming you broadcast multiple fucking times a day! I'm drowning in my fucking war flashbacks enough as it is and this! Is! Not! Fucking! Helping! I swear to God if you don't stop this motherfucking bullshit right this fucking instant, I will toss this fucking radio out my fucking window and never talk to you again, you son of a bitch!"

He took his paw back, breathing heavily and glaring at the radio.

And then, suddenly, there was silence.

The radio was still on, but there was nothing but faint static coming from it, and even that took Husk a moment to pick up on because of the abrupt change in the noise level.

It had worked.

He didn't know if Alastor had just stopped broadcasting or if he had left the scene of the bloodbath entirely, but the point was that the screaming ceased.

Blessed fucking silence. Husk sighed in absolute relief and leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. For a moment he simply existed, soaking up the lack of screams. And then, after regaining his equilibrium, he started thinking.

Did the broadcast stop just for him – was that something Alastor could even control? – or for everyone? Hell, if it was the latter... That was sure to be fucking confusing and frightening to the rest of the population, who wouldn't have the faintest clue what had caused it.

...There was a way to find out.

He eased himself off the wall and made a beeline to his couch. He located the remote from the mess of empty bottles and cans and dirty dishes and turned the television on. It took a few minutes for the news to be played, but when it did, he got his answer.

Alastor had vanished from the scene.

The survivors reported that he had abruptly frozen mid-kill, then shrunk back to his usual size, and disappeared. Nobody knew why.

Well, Husk did.

Damn it, Alastor.

As if on cue, the uncovered radio suddenly started emitting soft, soothing music at a low volume.

...Fuck damn it, Alastor.

ooooo

Husk spent the next few days taking it easy. He slept a lot, watched the television brainlessly, read a couple of books he had read a million times before and didn't actually need to absorb, and all around tried to simply exist peacefully and regain his mental balance. Whatever was left of it.

At the end of the week he felt decent enough to drop by the liquor store, but just barely. Mechanically. Only because he knew the way there with his eyes closed. Only because he absolutely needed to. It left him basically dead again, but least he had alcohol now.

He had been unable to get groceries, though. He had meant to, but he fucking couldn't. Well, he could live off of rice and canned tuna for a while longer. Who needed fucking vegetables or bread anyway?

Damn, he missed actual meals. He missed Al-

Fucking no. Too soon.

He must have jinxed it, as the very next day there was knocking on his door. He figured it might be his neighbour wanting something from him, so he got his tired ass off the couch and went to open the door.

Instead of his neighbour, there stood Alastor. He was wearing his usual smile, although there was a strained edge to it. The cut on his cheek had disappeared entirely, and his hair was almost the right length again.

...Alastor fucking knocked now?

Also, he had some damn nerve to show up.

"Huske-"

Husk slammed the door in his face. Just… Just fucking no. He did not have the mental energy to deal with Alastor yet.

He leaned his back against the door and closed his eyes, feeling drained again just from looking at the guy. For fuck's sake...

…He could almost physically feel those red eyes boring a hole on his back.

"I'm not going to let you in. Leave", he said loudly.

The presence from the other side vanished, and Husk slid down the door into a heap of tired misery on the floor.

ooooo

Another week went by and Husk was slowly getting better. He even dared a trip to the casino once and spent a couple of hours there, but it left him so fucking drained that he spent the next day doing absolutely nothing.

This was like his first year in Hell all over again with how fucking miserable he was in all ways.

Okay, actually it wasn't half as bad, but he had gotten so used to what his afterlife had been like for the last few decades that it felt worse than it was. He had to keep reminding himself of this. He had a roof over his head. He had food. He had alcohol. He had peace and quiet. His only real problems were psychological. There. It was nowhere near as bad. He could pick himself up from this. He had picked himself up so many times in his life and afterlife that it should be second nature to him by now. He just needed to get a grip. Put himself back together.

He was lying face down on his couch and trying to convince himself to do something, fucking anything, when there was a knock on the door.

This time he could guess who it was.

He was almost ready to forgive him now. Almost ready to deal with his noise and energy. But not quite. He wasn't together enough.

He did force himself off the couch and to the door anyway.

Alastor looked almost as horrible as Husk felt. His smile barely counted as one, he had bags under his eyes, and his ears drooped slightly.

Fucking hell.

Clearly Alastor was suffering from their separation. Well, it was honestly not that surprising, as usually they saw each other at least once a week and chatted via radio more than that. Hell, the last time they had spent this long apart…

Oh.

Yeah, not going there. It had been almost two decades ago, but he was still not going there.

Husk sighed, and ran a paw over his face. "Not yet. I can't deal with your noise right now. Give me another week."

Alastor looked at him with such earnest hopefulness that it hurt his heart. "Another week it is."

Husk shut the door after Alastor vanished.

ooooo

Exactly a week later, to the minute, there was a knock on his door. Husk had been preparing for it for the last few days. He had forced himself into getting a fucking grip by not allowing himself to lay on the couch for any amount of time – if he really needed a nap, he did it on his bed – by taking walks outside for some fresh air and exercise, and by dropping by the pub or the casino for brief periods of time – just enough to socialize but not so long as to exhaust himself.

So, now he was ready to deal with Alastor again. He hoped.

He opened the door, and there Alastor was. He looked better than last week; having had an actual end in sight had clearly made the waiting more bearable. He had an only slightly off grin on his lips and his ears were perky like usual.

Damn it, Husk had missed his stupid face.

Neither of them said a word, although Alastor looked like he was dying to but simply didn't dare. He was probably justifiably afraid of being sent away again.

Husk sighed and stepped back, leaving the door open behind him. He headed to the couch, paying little attention to the footsteps behind him or the sound of the door closing.

Alastor sat down next to him, but with considerable space between them. It wasn't a completely unfamiliar space; sometimes Alastor wasn't clingy and instead avoided touch. So this was fine. It was normal. Just a little uncommon.

"...I brought you something", Alastor said after a beat of silence. He placed a white pastry box on the coffee table in front of Husk.

Husk stared at it for a moment, then reached over and carefully lifted the lid. Inside was a slice of dark brown cake with some kind of a lighter brown creamy layer in the middle and thick, dark chocolate frosting and chocolate shavings on top.

Husk snorted. He knew what cakes like this were called.

"Trying to kill me again, are you?" he asked, and glanced at Alastor.

Alastor grinned, and held a cake fork out for him. "In a more pleasant way, I hope."

Husk snorted again and accepted the fork. He cut a small bite from the cake and gave it a taste. It was just the right amount of damp and rich in chocolate. The milk chocolate buttercream in the middle was perfectly creamy and smooth. The dark chocolate frosting – ganache, he thought it was called – was just shy of being bitter. For someone who didn't like sweets, Alastor sure could make a damn good cake when he wanted to.

Husk hummed contentedly and took another bite. He could hear a quiet sigh from Alastor's direction. Had he… Had Alastor been holding his breath while waiting to see if Husk liked the cake?

Damn, that was so stupidly adorable that Husk instantly felt a lot more forgiving. Okay, the cake helped, too.

Alastor seemed to sense his change in mood as he shifted closer and extended an arm towards Husk's shoulders in a very familiar manner. He actually did it slower than usual and even hovered for a second before finally wrapping an arm around Husk and pulling him into a gentle side-hug.

Alastor truly was going all out with the apology. Silence, a tasty present, respectful distance, an out from the touch if Husk didn't want it, and gentleness.

It was really fucking sweet. Uncommon with Alastor, but not completely unheard of.

Husk leaned against Alastor, and took another bite of the cake. Alastor squeezed him closer and pressed his pointy nose against the base of Husk's ear.

Fuck damn it, Husk didn't want to admit how much he had missed this. Out loud, at least.

"You know", he said, keeping his voice low. "The wait wasn't a punishment. Well, not entirely anyway. Mostly I just couldn't fucking deal with anything. Death in Hell messes you up good. I was completely in fucking pieces and I don't know if I could have handled you even if I hadn't been mad at you. I'm..."

Fucking hell he was being mushy, but if he was going to let Alastor be around him right then, he needed to learn the fucking rules.

He sighed.

"I'm still a mess", he admitted. "But now I'm at the point where… where you could probably help me pick up the pieces. But you will need to be less noisy and less boisterous for a while. I can't stay in the fucking bar for more than a couple of hours without feeling drained afterwards, so I definitely can't handle you being all over the fucking place like usual. Can you do that?"

Alastor wrapped his other arm around Husk, too, and pulled him into a proper hug. Husk noticed a slight tremble in his frame, and his ears picked up a low volume white noise that hadn't been there a moment ago. He dropped the fork on the coffee table and returned the hug.

"I'm sorry, Husker", Alastor whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"I know."

"I'll be as quiet as I can and the least bothersome I can manage."

"Appreciated. Though just so you know, quiet should be more about the volume and sound effects and less about the chatter. You not talking is fucking creepy and unnatural."

Alastor chuckled, and Husk felt instantly lighter. This was the Alastor he had missed. He hadn't even registered how much Alastor's fucking meekness had bothered him until that moment.

Fucking shit, he had done a number on Alastor again, hadn't he? Not purposefully, and he had been justified in his anger, but Alastor had taken a little too much of an emotional beating in the process. His death had been a temporary one, but he had still been a fucking corpse for a week and Alastor had clearly taken it hard. Very damn unsurprisingly.

At least Husk knew how to begin fixing this.

"You know what, Al? I think I'll need a lot of therapy cuddles to get over this shit. And fucking gumbo or something; I've been eating complete fucking bullcrap lately and I'm probably deficient on all nutrients. Can't get decent food here without you around."

Alastor squeezed him way too hard as a result, but Husk frankly didn't give a single damn and returned the hug with equal intensity.

They were going to be okay.

* * *

A/N: What happened to the tigress? How was the city after Alastor's two weeks of slaughter? Don't worry, you'll find out in chapter 12 of Afterlife.


	6. Serves the jackass fucking right

A/N: This goes between chapters 11 and 12.

* * *

Today was one of those days. A day when all Husk felt was almost incurable apathy and he didn't feel like doing anything. It was different from being bored or lonely, it was simply him feeling like nothing mattered and everything was pointless and unsatisfying.

On days like this, he walked. He simply left his house and went wherever his feet took him. Absolutely aimless, completely unplanned, no destination or constrains. Just him walking and looking at the literal hellscape around him passively, not looking for or at anything in particular. Just taking things in and then letting them go as he walked past them.

So walk he did. Slowly but surely leaving behind his home, his neighbourhood, his shopping area, his favourite pubs, and then the hubbub of the central city.

He didn't know how long he had walked already; neither the distance nor the time. But he did become aware that he was somewhat lost. Not completely so, he was still near the perimeter of the central city, but he didn't know exactly where. Not that it truly mattered; even if he got lost, he had his wings and could easily scout around for familiar landmarks and fly there very quickly.

The thing was, his apathy was giving way to tiredness, fucking finally, so knowing where he was was starting to become relevant. He would actually like a snack now, his lack of appetite from the morning abating. Or perhaps a nap. Or a beer. Or any combination of the three. Preferably all three, actually. Though the nap would be harder to obtain than the others since sleeping in random places was risky at best. Maybe just a snack and then he'd go home.

He stretched his wings in preparation of taking off, but stopped in his tracks when he suddenly felt something peculiar. It was hard to explain. Like a… pull. To a certain direction. Not a physical pull, but a… mental one, maybe? Like a suggestion.

He frowned, and turned to the direction in question. It led further away from the city, towards a local housing area. Why the fuck would he feel the need to go there?

Should he trust a random feeling? There might be a siren demon or something calling out for nearby fools. Or a fucking ritual of some kind.

Except… Except the feeling made him think of Alastor, for some reason. It felt vaguely like Alastor in a weird, abstract way.

What the actual fuck?

He took a few hesitant steps in the direction he was being pulled to, and the feeling got stronger.

...Wait.

He pulled out his house keys and looked at the keychain charm he had made out of one of Alastor's antlers. Yes, the feeling was definitely coming from that.

Well then. At least that meant it was safe to follow it – as insane as that would probably sound like to someone who wasn't best friends with the Radio Demon.

Husk began following the pull while keeping the keys on his palm. After a while it turned slightly, and the pull did the same. Husk followed its every whim obediently, and eventually found a relatively isolated house. It was red, and it looked like a normal house on the surface, but there was an unsettling air around it that made it seem somewhat sinister and warned him not to approach it.

That is, for about two seconds. Then the feeling kind of… snapped and disappeared.

Husk took that as a permission to walk up to the front door and knock.

Nobody answered. Alastor probably wasn't home.

Now what? He could leave. Or he could try the handle and see if the door was open or would otherwise let him enter.

He smirked. Alastor didn't give a fuck whether Husk was home or not, asleep or awake, wanted company or not if he felt like popping in, so why should he?

He turned the handle, and was disappointed to find the door locked. That is, until it became unlocked on its own and suddenly the way in was open for him.

Alastor's magic certainly had its perks.

Husk went in and yes, this was Alastor's house. It was funny how he had been inside multiple times, but had never before seen the outside. Alastor had always directly magicked them, or just Husk, here.

Husk put the key away and made a beeline to the kitchen. He raided the fridge for some leftover étouffée – he was very fucking thankful for finding a crawfish-based food, because he sure as fuck wasn't risking eating anything with meat out of Alastor's fridge – and washed it down with whiskey. He left the dishes in the sink to be Alastor's problem, and walked back into the living room.

For a mad moment he looked in the direction of the bedroom. If he wanted to be an ass, he could go take his nap in Alastor's bed. He had been in the bedroom exactly once, when Alastor had given him the grand tour. But afterwards he had respected Alastor's privacy and stayed out.

Now it was fucking tempting, just because he had free reign of the house until Alastor came home. He was shedding, too, so he could leave a nice layer of gray and white fur between the sheets.

Unfortunately, he was a lot more respectful of Alastor's boundaries than the guy was of his. That, and he wasn't sure if he could fall asleep in a bed where Alastor slept every night; he'd be too distracted imagining Alastor there by his side and-

Nope. Not going there. He was not fucking thinking that. No.

The couch was good. He liked the couch. It was comfortable. He had slept there before on multiple occasions. No reason to change a good habit now.

Husk dropped his hat on the coffee table, grabbed the red quilt, and settled down on his spot on the couch.

ooooo

Husk woke up to the sound of the door closing. It was soon followed by Alastor humming, then the sound of him removing articles of clothing – presumably his coat and shoes – then a rustle of paper. Husk opened his eyes to slits but didn't move; he was content to let Alastor discover him on his own.

Alastor entered the living room, but was so completely engrossed in a paper of some kind that he didn't stop to glance around in the slightest. Honestly, though, Husk couldn't blame him: why would he expect anyone to be in his home? That, and peering through that monocle in order to read fine print looked really inconvenient and like it required his full concentration.

Husk watched Alastor walk right past him without a clue, and had to refrain from snickering.

And then his thoughts came to a screeching halt as he saw It.

Alastor had a deer tail.

A black and red, adorable little deer tail that Husk had never had the pleasure of seeing before, despite Alastor going around without his coat all the damn time while visiting him. And Husk definitely fucking looked at that ass whenever he was absolutely certain Alastor wouldn't notice, so him having missed a fucking tail was impossible.

How and why? How had he not seen it? Why the hell had he not seen it?

His eyes were glued on the damn thing until Alastor's fine behind disappeared into the kitchen.

Husk's mind was working furiously.

So. He should have seen that tail before. It was really fucking unsubtle and he definitely looked. That meant it was normally not there to be seen. But it was there now. What was different? ...Alastor was at the privacy of his home. But he had been here in Husk's company before with no tail. ...Which meant he hid it when he had company, and Husk wasn't an exception to the rule, for once.

Which meant Husk wasn't supposed to have seen it.

Shit.

He hurriedly closed his eyes and tried to breathe slowly in order to feign sleep, just to be on the safe side when Alastor realized he wasn't alone. Which he would any moment now.

He was just in time, as not a second later he heard hurried footsteps coming his way from the kitchen. Alastor must have noticed the dishes.

Husk willed his heartbeat to slow the fuck down, and continued his act until he felt Alastor's presence looming over him. That was his cue to pretend to stir, stretch like the cat he was, blink his bleary eyes, and notice Alastor.

Alastor, who had the fucking gall to look at him accusingly. "Hello, Husker. What a surprise to see you at my house uninvited."

What a fucking hypocrite. Husk yawned before even bothering to answer. "Hey, Al. That's some funny shit coming from someone who routinely appears inside of my house every other day."

Alastor looked like he wanted to retort, but he obviously couldn't because Husk was one hundred percent right and they both knew it. It was fucking hilarious.

"How did you even find here? You have never had to use the door." Alastor asked with a faux cheerful look, trying to mask his indignation and neatly dismissing the previous argument.

This was the best fucking thing in weeks. Alastor was caught completely flatfooted and it was great.

"I found your hoofprints and followed them", Husk said with a smirk and sat up. He idly detangled the quilt from his feet and tail while Alastor clearly debated whether to call him out on his obvious fucking bullshit or not. Husk's smirk widened. "By the way, your bedsheets are really fucking staticky and impossible to sleep in. I think I left half my fur there before I had to give up and sleep here instead."

Alastor's smile froze. This was sweet payback for all of those times Alastor appeared in his house without any fucking warning. Sweet, sweet payback. Husk could almost hear the internal fucking screaming, and Alastor's expression clearly spelled out the need to go and check, but his pride was stopping him from giving Husk the satisfaction.

The. Best. Fucking. Thing.

"I see", Alastor said, and whirled around towards the kitchen. Husk gave a very quick glance down and damn it, no tail anymore. Not that he had expected anything different, but it was still a shame; he would have loved to look some more "I suppose I should play the good host and brew some coffee, then."

Husk watched Alastor walk away, and stretched some more to get his blood flowing. Then he tilted his ears in the direction of the bedroom and waited.

A second later he heard the sound of covers being moved, and he fucking cackled.

Husk didn't bother hiding his laughter as he went to the kitchen to see about actually getting that coffee started, while Alastor presumably had a small meltdown in the bedroom.

Sweet, sweet payback.


	7. Mushiness of epic fucking proportions

A/N: This chapter goes between chapters 16 and 17. This is also the last chapter of this side-story, thank you for reading!

* * *

Husk stared at the bar counter in displeasure. He had just finished wiping down its shiny black surface, but once again there was a white hair in the middle of it, mocking him with its contrasting fucking colour.

All the fucking time now, no matter how carefully he brushed himself daily. ...Which he didn't, other than his face, but even haphazard brushing every few days should accomplish at least fucking something!

Not that this was anything new. No, his fucking house was always cat hairs galore, and Alastor's couch was a lost cause after decades of visiting him and sitting there with his hairy ass. But the fact that his bar counter refused to stay hairless for even a fucking minute was simply unacceptable.

He'd have to apply desperate measures.

He sighed at the very thought. He fucking hated it. It was time-consuming and required some serious fucking bendiness on his part and his old fucking back just wasn't meant for any of it. If only he could-

His thoughts came to a screeching halt and a grin appeared on his lips.

Oh, he actually could now! Yes, he fucking could. It was perfect.

He cackled to himself and turned around to lay a paw on the dingy radio he now kept on the shelf between some less used flavour bottles.

"Hey Al. Come down here when you've got the time. And by time, I mean a lot of it."

He didn't bother staying on stand-by, knowing Alastor heard him and would simply show up when it suited him. So, he got back to work cleaning up his bar. The floor was swept and the tufts of cat hair binned. Out went empty bottles. A few almost empty bottles were emptied into his throat to get them out of the way, too. Angel Dust was sent packing and told to come back tomorrow when the bar was fucking open again. A list of liquor he needed to purchase sometime soon was made. Shelves were wiped. Bottles were organized neatly. The floor was swept another fucking time.

And finally Alastor showed up.

"You have need of me?" he asked, and wrapped an arm around Husk's shoulders. Husk leaned against him, and his tail curled around Alastor's leg quite without conscious intent on his part. It had started doing that a few days after they became a couple and Husk saw no reason to do anything about it.

...It was still such a strange thought. Them being a couple. It had been almost two weeks now, and Husk was not fucking used to the concept. Granted, they hadn't really done much anything different from before so far, as they had concentrated on repairing their damaged relationship first and foremost. Alastor had given him a good morning kiss on his cheek yesterday and on the side of his ear this morning, but that was all the difference there was. Husk didn't want to push him, and those two occasions were a clear indicator that he had made the right decision for once; Alastor was warming up to the idea on his own and going at it at a pace that was comfortable for him. That mattered more than any impatience on Husk's part.

Well, there were more hugs, too, but that was quite honestly business as usual when compared to their time together pre-hotel. Husk could tell Alastor was itching to cuddle – which was no wonder, as it had been almost half a year since semi-regular cuddles, and that one cuddle after his confession wasn't enough to make up for that – but at the same time they were both stupidly hesitant to do it now that there was a new variable involved.

Husk was about to fix that.

"Yes", he answered, and reluctantly stepped out of the embrace. "I have a new job for you. Come on."

Alastor followed him obediently, and Husk could almost feel the curiosity radiating from him. Good. He led them to his room, which was frankly a mess of loose cat hair at this point. He continued to ignore it.

"Take off your coat, shoes, and gloves and sit on the bed", Husk said with no preamble, and there was immediately a record scratch sound behind him. Predictably enough. He quickly hid his amusement and turned to give Alastor a deadpan stare. Alastor's eyes were wide and his grin was frozen.

It was too fucking easy and Husk really had to fight with himself to refrain from laughing. He felt only slightly bad for messing with Alastor's head this soon after their changed status quo, but frankly this was likely the only time this shit would work, as eventually the asshole would get used to the idea and become truly comfortable with all of it. So, he had to take advantage of the newness while he could.

"I don't know what the hell you think is going to happen, but you can take your mind out of the fucking gutter", he drawled, and finally let a smirk slip. "I know we haven't yet had that… discussion on physical boundaries, as you put it, but I'm not an idiot. Try to have some fucking faith."

Alastor's shock turned into indignation. "My mind is not in-"

"Sure, sure. You tell yourself that", Husk interrupted, enjoying this way too much. "Now do as I said."

He left Alastor to his own devices and went into the bathroom connected to his room. He dropped his hat and bow tie on the edge of the sink, took a very specific black toiletry bag from the mirror cabinet, and returned to the bedroom. Alastor was sitting on the edge of the bed, without his coat, shoes, and gloves, and giving Husk a smile that promised revenge later. Eh, worth it.

"You'll need to scoot further into the bed", Husk said, and waited until Alastor did so before sitting across from him and putting the bag between them. "Alright. Now as my freshly promoted… uh… what the fuck am I supposed to call you anyway?"

Alastor tilted his head at him. "I haven't the foggiest what you're even talking about."

Husk gestured between the two of them. "Us. I would normally call you my lover, but that's wildly inaccurate under our circumstances. And boyfriend sounds fucking juvenile. Damned significant other? Like fucking hell I'm going with that."

Alastor hummed in thought. "Sheik?"

Husk guffawed. "The fucking whippersnappers these days won't even know what that means."

…

They exchanged a look, and identical mischievous smiles rose to both of their lips.

"Sheik it is", Husk said, and Alastor laughed. "Now as I was saying, as my freshly promoted sheik, you're fucking hereby tasked with making sure I won't shed so much fur all over the fucking place."

He opened the bag and took out two brushes and a small cloth bag. Alastor was paying very close attention, and it was honestly fucking adorable and so sweet that Husk felt like his heart was about to burst.

"So here's how it works", he said after clearing his throat. He picked up the brush with sharp looking metallic bristles. "This torture device looking fucker is the main weapon. It gets the loose hair out really damn well. Now this nicer looking one exists because the previous fucker leaves my fur filled with static electricity and that's un-fucking-bearable. This one has nice natural bristles that undo that bullshit. And this bag is for stashing the clumps of loose fur. You can't get them to un-cling from your fucking fingers with a plastic bag, so cloth it is. Any questions?"

Alastor picked up the metallic brush and touched the bristles curiously. "One. How much of you am I supposed to brush?"

Husk smirked, and poked at Alastor's crossed feet. "Straighten these."

Once Alastor did so, Husk draped himself over his lap, laying on his back with his wings splayed open in order to not block his sides with them. He grinned up at Alastor. "All of me except for my face, crotch, and wings. You better get started because this takes fucking forever."

Alastor eyes traveled the length of Husk's body, and despite knowing it was simply him assessing the work ahead of him, oh fuck did it make Husk's stomach flip something fierce. This was more or less the reason he hadn't saddled Alastor with this job before now.

But now he had nothing to worry about. If Alastor's eyes or touch or the intimacy of the activity made him feel things, it was acceptable. He was allowed to enjoy the attention. It was okay.

The thought alone made him smile fondly and close his eyes in contentment. He tilted his head back as an invitation, and after a moment Alastor took it and started gently brushing his jaw and neck. A bit too gently, even. It was damn precious.

"That's not gonna cut it, Al", Husk instructed after the first tentative strokes. "You need to get the fur at the fucking roots. Don't you ever brush your own ears and tail?"

The brushing paused, and then resumed with surer, deeper strokes. That was more fucking like it. "Yes, but they don't require much attention. I simply make them look presentable."

Husk hummed. Yeah, he supposed that a deer wouldn't shed as much as a cat. That, and having only ears and a small tail to work with would be so much fucking easier anyway.

...Damn, he really wanted to see that tail again. But all in good time. Alastor would make it visible when he damn well pleased, and Husk would wait patiently for that day. Boundaries were being pushed enough as it was, and he didn't want to make Alastor regret the choice of agreeing to this whole thing.

In the meanwhile, he enjoyed his brushing. He started purring softly, until eventually the static electricity became an annoyance. "Hey. Switch brushes."

Alastor did as asked, and yes, Husk liked the soft brush much better than the other one. He resumed the purring and stretched a little in pure enjoyment.

It took a few more prompts from Husk until Alastor learned when to switch brushes based on his natural cues, such as the purring going quieter, but once he learned the ropes he started chattering away while he worked.

Husk had missed moments like this so fucking much.

He lost the track of time. All he cared about was Alastor's steady brushing and his endless chatter and his presence and the fact that Husk was up to his ear tufts in love with this motherfucker. The feeling filled every fiber of his body and soul, so when it was time for him to turn around to get his back done, he took a moment to sit up, drop a kiss on Alastor's pointy nose, and only then laid down on his stomach.

Alastor's baffled expression at the action was the cherry on top.

"You're doing good, and you're more than halfway done", Husk said, and folded his arms to rest his head on them. "Tell me when to move my wings out of the way. I don't want to whack you in the face or something by moving them unexpectedly."

Alastor chuckled, and resumed the brushing. "That would be a lot more unpleasant than that unexpected kiss, yes. You know, Husker, you're more relaxed and… hmm, more openly receptive to my touch than you've ever been. Did confessing your feelings really make that much of a difference?"

Husk's heart skipped a beat. Was it really that obvious? Also, the fact that Alastor was talking about the confession that easily made something within him unwind; he had been a little afraid that Alastor would feel awkward about it, despite playing along for now.

"It did", Husk answered once he had his shit back together. Time to be truthful, since Alastor asked. "I was always a little self-conscious about enjoying your touch before. It felt a little like I was using you since you didn't know, which I realize is utter bullshit because you're the cuddly bastard here. And I didn't want to get too into it and let anything slip. ...Feelings are complicated bullshit."

Alastor laughed, and patted the top of Husk's head with his free hand. "I wouldn't know! Thank you for attempting to explain. Now, on a different note, am I expected to maintain your wings as well?"

Husk raised an eyebrow at the abrupt subject change. Perhaps he had been a bit hasty in assuming that Alastor didn't feel at least a little awkward. That something within him wound a bit tighter again, but he made the conscious decision to not worry too much about it for now. Alastor most likely just needed time to work things out, and this conversation was a step forward.

They had all the time in the world.

"Not right now, but in the future, yes", Husk answered, and shifted said wings as Alastor nudged at one. "That'll actually be even more of a relief for me than this, as getting at my back is damn difficult even with my fucking cat flexibility. At least with a brush I can just reach blindly behind my back and get something done right regardless. With the stupid fucking wings I need to be a lot more careful. Thankfully that'll be your problem from now on."

Alastor laughed, and ran a hand down the closest wing. Husk shuddered at the touch. He didn't let people touch his wings very often, Alastor previously included, so they were a bit sensitive to caressing. He could see them getting a lot more attention in the near future now that Alastor knew he was allowed to touch, and he was both looking forward to it and somewhat wary.

"That's something to look forward to", Alastor said cheerfully, and started humming while continuing the brushing. Husk smiled and closed his eyes, joining the choir with his purrs.

For the next… however long a chunk of time there was only humming, purring, and brushing. Just Alastor and Husk. It was perfect.

Husk was mildly disappointed when the last few inches of his tail before the feathery tip were dealt with and Alastor put the brushes back into the toiletry bag, set it down on the nightstand, and dropped the fur-filled cloth bag on the floor next to the bed. But all good things had to come to an end, and this good thing had lasted for a long while. He had no right to complain.

"You should move now", Alastor said, and nudged Husk's side. Well, there it was. His official cue.

Husk stretched and sat up, blinking sleepily. Damn, getting pampered like that apparently made him ready to drop. He would call it an early night once he saw Alastor off.

Alastor stretched his legs, which were probably numb after how long Husk had been lying on them. He noticed that Alastor was absolutely covered in his loose fur, which was funny and strangely cute. Alastor looked at said fur coating as well, but to Husk's surprise elected to do nothing about it. Instead he turned to smile at Husk.

"Lay back down where you are", he said, and pointed at the bed.

Husk blinked. Wait, what the fuck? Not that he was gonna complain about not having to get up, but… Actually, what the hell. He didn't particularly care about the reasons. He laid down on his back, stretched again, and folded his wings to his sides.

To his absolute surprise and causing his heart to jump into overdrive, Alastor laid down next to him and snuggled up to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist and and laying his head on his chest.

Husk had never in a million years expected this. His face felt hot and his stomach squirmed and his heart kept attempting a prison escape from behind his ribs while simultaneously swelling like crazy.

He loved every second of it.

"You're required to pet my ears as a payment for my services", Alastor said, and Husk could hear the amusement in his voice. "I will not be here all night, so you better get started."

...He was not going to say no to that. Ever.

The last thing Husk remembered before falling asleep much, much later was the feeling of Alastor's soft ear against his palm pad, the warmth of his body against his side and on his chest, and the sound of Alastor's slow breathing as the much beloved jackass had fallen asleep on him, despite his earlier words.

* * *

A/N: Because google isn't very helpful with this 20s slang word: sheik means more or less a (hot) boyfriend ;)


End file.
